To the Edge (Hideaway) (8 page)

He
kept her immobile beneath him. ‘I need to ask you something, and I need you to
be as honest as you can.’

Uh
oh. ‘Okay.’

‘This
is something I have to know before we proceed with the evening.’

She
nodded.

He
paused, choosing his words with great care. ‘When sensitive, intelligent people
ask to be whipped, sometimes it’s because, on some level – maybe even
subconsciously – they feel they need to atone for something,’ he said, his eyes
never leaving hers. ‘Do you think there’s any chance that might apply to you?’

‘What,
like a Trappist monk?’

‘Mmm,
maybe not quite as extreme as that, but that sort of impulse, yes.’

She
tried to sift through what brought her to ask for this. ‘Consciously, I’d say
no. I’m not aware of having a guilt complex like that. Subconsciously,’ she
said, truthfully, ‘I have no idea. All I can say is… as far as I’m aware, I’m
not looking to be punished for anything I’ve done in my life.’

His
gaze was searching, assessing.

‘Would
you whip someone who
was
motivated in that way?’ she said.

He
nodded slowly. ‘Yes, but I’d do it differently to how I’d do it for someone who
was in it for pleasure, or a thrill. Quite often there’s a sort of Venn diagram
of overlapping factors. What I’m trying to get a sense of is, what are you
seeking from the experience, and how much pain will it take to satisfy you?’

‘I
have no idea. All I can tell you is, I’m drawn to it. I can’t tell you why.’

He
nodded. ‘We’ll take it slowly, and see how you go.’

She
searched his face for reassurance.

He
smiled. ‘I’ll take care of you, kiddo. Whatever it is you need, we’ll discover
it together.’

‘Thank
you, Sir.’

He
kissed her, and reached down to feel between her legs. ‘You’re all wet and
sticky down here,’ he said. ‘I think this first time, especially, it’s
important that we have a blank slate to work with. So, into the shower with
you.’

*

Master
Dan turned on the shower and gathered up his supplies while the water heated
up. He put his hand under the spray, and motioned to the table with the slight
hollow in the center. He put a waterproof pillow and padded liner down on it,
and adjusted it all to his satisfaction. He motioned to it. ‘Lie down here, and
relax.’

‘What’re
you going to do?’ she said, as he helped her onto it. A table built into a
shower stall? Who the hell ever thought of these things?

‘Always
with the questions,’ he said.

‘Is
it going to hurt?’

Suddenly
he was leaning over her, trapping her between his arms. His eyes were warm and
dark, his voice rough. ‘No. This will feel good, I promise.’

Her
eyes dropped to his semi-erect cock. ‘Who for?’

The
look he gave her lasted just long enough to remind her to think before she
spoke.

‘For
you
,’ he said.

Almost
before she could draw breath, he was upright again. He turned the spray to a
light setting, and proceeded to wash her hair. Then he massaged a soapy sponge
over her neck and chest, down her arms, over her hips between her legs, and
over her feet. When he got down there, she moaned happily.

‘Foot
massage fan, huh?’ he grinned.

‘Oh,
yeah.’

He
indulged her right foot for a few minutes, and then gave the same attention to
the left one. Comfortable on the table, and in the heat of the steamy bathroom,
she closed her eyes and let herself drift.

Then
he was moving away from her, unhooking one of those funny-looking steel hose attachments
from the wall. Given the length and thickness of the nozzle, she had a pretty
good idea where it was going.

‘Bring
your heels together, and let your legs fall open,’ he said.

She
did.

He
ran a soapy hand over the nozzle brought it to her vagina, and gently inserted
it. She winced a little, still slightly sore from the toy earlier.

‘Easy,’
he said, gently. ‘All I’m going to do is flush out all those lovely juices from
before, so that I can tell if the whipping makes you wet.’

She
nodded, and he flipped a switch. She squirmed as warm water flooded her, and
grabbed at his hand as the flow was suddenly reversed, beginning a moderate
suction. He captured her wrist, and pushed her back down.

‘Lie
still. I promise this won’t hurt. It won’t get any stronger than this,
sweetheart, but it needs to be done a few times.’

She
tried to calm down and enjoy the ebb and flow of the water inside her.

A
couple of minutes later, she came. The nozzle made an obscene, stuttery sucking
sound as it removed all traces of her orgasm.

He
sponged her face and forehead, and leaned down to kiss her. ‘Good girl. How did
you like that?’

‘Uh,
a lot,’ she admitted. ‘It was probably the strangest feeling orgasm I’ve ever
had, but still good.’

He
grinned, and slid a well-muscled forearm under her shoulder. ‘Turn over.’

She
did, and he proceeded to wash her back just as slowly and carefully as her
front. But as he made a final pass over her back and buttocks, she caught a
subtle whiff of a more antiseptic scent. She got it; he wanted her back to be
prepared for what was ahead.

She
parted her legs a little, allowing him to wash her more intimately.

‘Good
girl,’ he murmured, sluicing warm water between her buttocks. ‘Sit up.’

He
steadied her with one hand as she perched on the side of the table, while with
the other he reached for another hose attachment, this one shorter and slimmer
than before.

‘Put
your feet on the floor, and bend over the table.’

She
did, her face pressing into the squishy, wet pad she’d just been lying on.

‘Hands
behind your back.’

She
obeyed. He clasped her wrists and dropped his voice an octave.

‘Don’t
fight me now, this won’t take but a few seconds; it’s a rinse, not an enema.’

A
small thrill ran through her, as well as a jolt of comfort in giving up control
to him. The slippery steel nozzle entered her easily. A warm gush filled her
rectum, and the nozzle was withdrawn.

He
didn’t let her up right away, but held her immobile over the table for a couple
of minutes.

Finally
he let go of her wrists, rubbed them lightly, and allowed her to straighten up
at her own pace.

‘Come
stand with your feet either side of the drain,’ he said. When she was in place,
he slid his hands under her arms. ‘Squat, and let the water come out.’

He
supported her through the release, and helped her to stand up again.

After
one final wash, he turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower. He took
one of those huge, fluffy golden towels she’d admired earlier, and gently dried
her off, then gave her hair a quick blast with the hairdryer.

‘Feeling
okay?’ he said.

‘More
than okay,’ she smiled.

‘Glad
to hear it.’ He quickly towelled himself, and pulled his pants on. He handed
her the blue silk robe. ‘Put this on, and go sit on the bed.’

She
did, and he disappeared into the sitting area.

*

He
returned to the bedroom with a thick black whip coiled in his hand. She
couldn’t look away from it.

He
brought it over, and held it out to her. ‘It’s a bullwhip. Go ahead, see how it
feels.’

She
took it. The leather was beautifully braided in strips of black and blue. To
her eyes it looked thick. The leather was stiff, but had a warm, giving quality
to it that almost made it feel friendly. ‘Good craftsmanship,’ she said, her
voice trembling only slightly.

He
stroked a reassuring hand down her head and shoulders. ‘Yes. The best. Would
you like to know how it feels?’

She
nodded. He went over to the big wooden doors with the shiny gold handles, and
opened them, revealing a good-sized room that was empty save for a recessed
alcove to the left that contained a vase of flowers, a large window with a
gauzy curtain to the right, and a St Andrew’s Cross dead ahead.

He
smiled at her expression. ‘Only if you want it, sweetheart.’

She
swallowed, and walked up to the cross. She felt how solid and well-padded it
was, and imagined herself on it, taking his blows. How much could she take?

Trying
hard to push her racing thoughts aside, she untied her silk robe, and let it
fall to the floor. Then she reached up and put her left wrist into one of the
thickly-padded leather cuffs.

‘Brave
girl.’ His voice was warm and soothing as he took over the job of fastening her
restraints. It was no time at all before she was spread wide, firmly bound at
both wrists and ankles. His hand rested low on her back.

‘How
does that feel?’ he said.

‘Fine.’

‘Not
too tight?’

‘No.’

‘And
you’re not feeling sick or dizzy?’

‘No.’

‘If
at any time you do begin to feel unwell, you’ll safeword immediately. Tell me
your safeword.’

‘Ocean,
Sir.’

‘Good.’

All
she could hear was the rain on the windows, and a soft whisper of silk.

‘I’m
going to blindfold you. Partly because it’ll help you to relax and concentrate
on what you’re feeling, but mostly it’s to protect your eyes.’

She
nodded, and he wrapped the thick length of soft blue silk around her head,
tying it firmly at the back.

‘We’re
going to start very slowly,’ he said. ‘I’m going to warm up for a minute.
You’ll hear a couple of sharp cracks, but don’t worry, they won’t touch you.’

‘Yes,
Sir.’ She steeled herself, but even so, she jerked in her cuffs as the whip cut
through the air, and made a loud snap somewhere over to her right. That was
fine; let him practice, let him be as good at this as he needed to be.

‘Okay,
let’s get started,’ he said.

She
went rigid against the cross, closed her eyes, and held her breath.

‘I
know it’s not easy, but the more you can relax, the easier this will go,’ he
said.

She
nodded, and made a determined, but pretty futile effort to loosen her muscles
and to breathe. Suddenly his hands smoothed over her back.

‘Sam,
when we’re afraid, or in pain, our natural instinct is to try to remove
ourselves from it. I want you to make a conscious effort to stay with it; to
feel every blow, so that you can find your edge, that sweet spot where it’s
just enough but not too much. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes,
Sir.’

‘Here
it comes, now. Just breathe through it.’

There
was a soft snapping noise, she flinched, and a moment later felt a buzzing line
somewhere between a tickle and a slight burn between her shoulder blades.

‘Sam?
Talk to me. How was that?’

‘Was
that it?’

He
laughed. ‘Every so often, I’m going to stop and ask you how the pain is on a
scale of one to ten. Ready for the next one?’

‘Yes,
Sir.’

This
time, it was harder; less tickle, more burn.

Snap.
Burn. This went on for some time; mainly on her upper back, while occasionally
dropping down to her buttocks. One thing was for sure; she wasn’t going to be
sitting comfortably anytime soon.

He
spoke into her ear. ‘On a scale of one to ten, that last strike was a….’

She
thought. ‘A five. To tell you the truth, I was starting to lose concentration.’

‘You’re
becoming bored?’

‘Yes,
Sir.’

‘So
we should step it up a bit.’

And
he did. The blows were sharper, keener, faster. Pain flared, and faded, flared,
and faded. Her skin felt hot, prickly, oversensitive. She wanted him inside
her.

‘You’re
pressing yourself against the cross,’ he said, approaching her from behind,
lowering his voice to a soft growl. His hand pushed between her legs, strong
fingers probing inward until they found their goal and entered her body.

She
gasped and tried to squirm away, clenching on his fingers, trying to escape
them before she came, a little shocked and embarrassed to find that she really
was turned on by this kind of pain.

‘Do
you know,’ he said, removing his fingers, ‘the next time we do this, I might
have you wear shiny, fire engine red latex panties. At this point in the
whipping, I’ll pull your panties aside,’ he said, his hand smoothing over her ass,
sliding down to her sex, as though rehearsing that very action. ‘Once I’ve exposed
you, I’ll be ready with a long, thick, lubricated pressure gauge. It’s a
medical instrument that’s steel on the inside, with a molded latex exterior. I’ll
slip it deep into your vagina or rectum. You might whimper or cry out. You’ll
probably fight your restraints, but you’ll know that it’s going in, no matter
what.’